Don'd On Me

March is almost over, and I don't know how that's possible.
Were you guys around for March?
Where was I during March?

Imagine sitting next to Robin Williams on a long bus trip.

I have two separate phone numbers listed in my phone
With the name: Don.
One Don is my old landlord.
Who was a lovely man, but I have no reason to call him anymore.
But I can't delete his number because I don't know which 'Don' he is.
And I have no idea who the other Don is.
Oh, I literally just figured it out.
But the post is (mildly) funnier if I don't know who he is.
So, let's act like I'm as unaware as I typically am.
Nevermind.
It's ruined.
Yet another punchline foiled by my diamond-encrusted memory.

So I taught on Friday.
I went to look at tarantulas and ants on Thursday.
Taught on Friday.
I actually had a student call me 'goofy' while I was standing right in front of them.
While walking around the grade 9 class, I overhear:
"...he's kinda goofy lookin.'"
I wouldn't have known the difference.
Until her friend said, "He's standing right there."
So...
"I'm sorry, did you...did you just call me 'goofy' while I'm standing right in front of you?"
She's laughing with her head down the whole time.
I'm far more accustomed to being humiliated than she is.
It's embarrassing for her, and that makes it A) okay, and B) fun.
"I'm used to people calling me goofy, but at least do it when I'm not in ear shot.
Please. That's just common courtesy."
I also caught a grade 8 student calling me "that nerdy teacher."
(I really did)
But that's another story.

Remember when soap was good enough?
I remember when soap was good enough.
You might have been playing with your buddies at the dump.
Or rolling around in the chicken gizzards outside of the poultry factory.
When you got home, you washed your hands with soap (only because Mom made you).
And then you were fine.
Lick the rib sauce off of your fingers.
You washed your hands with soap.
Remember that?